Invictus
by Madison Dyann
Summary: /I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul./ Gabriele Richter was once the only mutant employed by the United States government. But that changed with the expansion of Division X. ((Potential Erik/OC - XMen: First Class)
1. Job Description

**May 30, 1962 Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic**

It was a minute past midnight when General Rafael Trujillo walked out of the capitol building. The man felt so safe, so in control of the chaotic country that he freely walked the crime ridden streets of Santo Domingo on the way to his luxury car, which was parked a short distance around the corner. The dictator's overconfidence played directly into her hand. She watched from her position on top of the opposing apartment building as the old man stepped off the curb and into the street. General Trujillo never made it to his car.

The small bullet was silent as it left the gun. The only sound that echoed down the street was that of a body hitting the asphalt.

As the warm crimson blood flowed from the General's head onto the cold street, the woman broke down the high powered rifle, whose patent remained classified as top secret. Less an hour later, she was on a small speed boat traveling through international waters, headed for Puerto Rico. A short coded message was sent to the CIA team located in Miami using the boat's encrypted radio.

Gabriele Richter had been working for the Central Intelligence Agency for nearly fifteen years. Practically ever since the Americans saved her from her war torn homeland. Now, in return, she worked for them. It wasn't the prettiest job. She yet had to conceive a way in which she could ever call her job, which entitled her to kill people, pretty.


	2. Blunder

Less than forty-eight hours after killing the hemisphere's longest reigning dictator, Gabriele found herself swimming in a private boatyard in a rather ritzy district of Miami. She was almost invisible in the dark water as the hour grew later. She felt completely unprepared for this mission which was thrust upon her before she could even step back onto American soil and get a good night's sleep. The mission wasn't even clear. S_top the boat from leaving the harbor. Don't let anyone escape._ The radio message ordered her. She had never failed to complete a job but she always had time to plan and prepare, as well as a clear, detailed task. But it wasn't her job to babysit boats. That was the Coast Guard's problem. The United States federal government did not pay her high salary so she could deal with things on American soil.

The boat in question wasn't exactly a boat. It was a hundred foot yacht with multiple floors and a helipad. From the water, which was where she was still floating, it looked more like a commercial cruise liner than a personal yacht. Eventually, after swimming in circles around the boat, Gabriele was able to pull herself up onto a lower deck, which was empty of people. Her short brown hair stuck to her face as saltwater dripped onto the wooden floor. She shook her body, imitating a wet dog, before she removed a gun from the holster on her hip.

Guns were the crutch she leaned on too much. Her five foot five inch body was stronger than it looked. Over the course of her career, she had practically mastered the art of hand-to-hand combat but guns were her forte. She enjoyed guns and she was good with them. And that wasn't ever a product of her mutation. The long sleeves and gloves were, however, a necessary reaction to her mutation.

Before she had gone five feet down the hallway, the water around the yacht erupted in chaos. In the distance a large spotlight lit up the yacht and the majority of the surrounding harbor, blinding Gabriele for a few brief seconds. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she was able to make out about eight speed boats carrying what she presumed to be soldiers plowing through the waves towards the yacht. A voice flowed across the once silent air from a large military ship, which appeared out of the darkness and blocked the exit of the harbor. "This is the United States' Coast Guard. You are under asset. Do not attempt to flee."

"Son of a bitch." She said rather loudly under her breath. _The CIA can't do anything right anymore,_ she thought. She shouldn't have taken her attention off of her surroundings. While she was still cursing her employer and the incoming military, someone or something cause a rather heavy, blunt object to hit Gabriele over the head with it. Reality went black as she collapsed to the floor.

_Bright, artificial light burned Sevel Hirsch's brown eyes as she awoke. She found herself laying on a cold, metal table. What little energy the young girl had was wasted on the straps which held her down to the table. She felt the sedative fading away and found herself wanting more. To feel nothing was her wish. No sadness. No hopelessness. No fear. No pain. Nothing. Numbness was her goal._

_Her fragile mind wandered back to the day that changed everything. It was also the day that was suppose to end everything. End all the feeling. End her life. Ironic sunlight warmed Sevel's face as she walked hand-in-hand with her more sickly mother. Everyone around her was sick; coughing, vomiting, and internal bleeding were what put many of the others in the line which traveled into the large brick building. Sevel had contracted only a minor cough but she still posed a threat to the vital workforce. Spring had arrived late and the winter too harsh. The lucky ones were killed by their disease._

_The young girl of fourteen looked towards what would be her, and her mother's, final resting place. The round smoke-stack towered far into the air, narrowing at the top. Black smoke was still flowing gracefully from the red chimney. The Nazi's were behind on the last run. Maybe if they weren't so weak, someone might have fought against the eerily calm pace at which the line moved. But the ill Jews had already made their peace with God. Better to die now, than to live any longer as slaves._

_Sevel continued to hold her mother's hand even though the woman did not pay her any attention. Her mother hadn't spoken a word since her husband died. She had all but ignored her only surviving child. Inside, the heavy iron door was sealed and locked once the small windowless room was filled beyond capacity. Finally, panic took its hold among the herd of people._

_Now, Sevel wished she could have joined in the fate of so many of her people. For her survival, only brought more pain._


	3. First Impressions

Gabriele was out for less than two minutes, but when she regained conciseness the situation in the boatyard had drastically changed. She could feel blood dripping down the back of her neck, but she gave it no attention. The wound had surely began to heal by now. Instead, she focused all her attention on the current events on the ship. The upper level had already been destroyed, raining down debris on the floors below. Bits of stripped wood and broken fiberglass covered the deck around her. The culprit, a large heavy anchor chain, was still at work.

Some how, the chain moved through the air and crashed into the next level of the boat. More debris crumbled to the deck below as the chain cut through like a knife in butter. Gabriele didn't stick around to see the magical chain destroy the last level, the level in which she stood upon. She didn't even bother to re-holster her gun, which was laying carelessly on the floor before she jumped over the polished railing and dived back into the cold Atlantic water.

When she was a safe distance away from the destroyed yacht and the floating anchor, she finally stopped swimming and assessed the situation. Obviously, she would be unable to complete her mission. The target, or targets, would have already escaped or they were dead in the rubble of the boat. She wondered for a second, as the Coast Guard sailed closer to the destroyed ship, whether her distraction had cost her an opportunity to do her job effectively. The woman finally concluded that there was nothing she could have done to prevent this outcome. Too many unforeseen variables had intervened themselves into Gabriele's already clumsy plan. Gabriele was never one for to deny responsibility for her failures but all that had happened was out of her control. No one had told her of the Coast Guard's plan to interfere nor was she aware she should have prepared for floating anchors. She didn't even know who she was suppose to keep from escaping.

As Gabriele began to swim towards the American military ship, she planned out her list of complaints about this abstract mission the CIA had recklessly thrown together. She climbed the metal ladder that was welded onto the side of the ship prepared to ask for a salary increase and a vacation. When her feet touched the ground she saw a familiar face looking back at her. If she had to call someone her boss, it would be G.W. Bridge. But before Gabriele could air her complaints, another CIA agent, Moira MacTaggert, joined them, followed by two men who she had never seen before in her life. Both were out of breath and their clothes were soaked.

_Charles Xavier studied the woman in front of him. Her wet clothes clung to her thin but athletic frame. Her short brown hair became more untidy when she ran a gloved hand through it. She didn't look to be a day over twenty but the way she carried herself displayed a sense of wisdom. Charles decided that there was something odd about the young CIA agent. He found his desire to read her mind overwhelming. But he had already invaded one person's privacy that night and Charles wasn't interested in making that a habit. But his curiosity got the better of him._

Agent Bridge was a short, stocky forty-something man with dark hair which matched his boring black suit. He was the only constant in Gabriele's fluid life. She wouldn't consider him a friend, but he was the closest thing she had to one. The man knew practically everything about her, from her past to her mutation. "Richter, I was beginning to think you had died." Bridge said offhandedly.

"Sorry to disappoint." She said quietly, adjusting her wet gloves.

"Once again, you made the front page." Bridge produced a newspaper from his jacket pocket and passed it to her as another person, a young blonde woman, joined the group. Gabriele ignored the newcomer just as she did the rest of the group. On the newspaper big, bold letters easily caught her attention. **DOMINICAN DICTATOR ASSASSINATED**. A large black and white picture of Trujillo in his military uniform was placed directly beneath the front page.

"Too bad his son will just replace him." She said mostly to herself. She was in the midst of reading the article and admiring her handiwork when Gabriele felt an extremely odd sensation. It felt as though someone was poking her brain with a stick. The feeling lingered. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. Her hand instinctively rushed to her hip and withdrew the remaining gun from its holster. She aimed the weapon at one of the unnamed men, the shorter of the two. He was the same height as Gabriele, perhaps just an inch taller. His once neatly combed hair was messy due to his swim in the harbor and his bright blue added to his already charming face.

_This was the first time Charles had ever looked down the barrel of a gun and, not quite fond of the view, he hoped it would be his last. "Do that again and I'll shoot you." The woman said with the utmost sincerity. There was a slight accent there, but he couldn't quite place it. _

_Charles immediately regretted his decision to pry into the girl's mind the moment he did so. He wasn't expecting her to be able to detect his presence let alone keep him out. For the few seconds of access he, Charles learned that he woman was, indeed, a mutant but she wasn't a telepath. He discovered that her name was Gabriele Richter, but the presence of the name in her mind seemed too fresh for it to be her real name. When he was about seek out more information, particularly about her past, a wall sprouted up out of her subconsciousness. Literally, an iron wall wrapped itself around her mind before Charles could proceed farther. The harder he pushed the thicker the wall grew._

_Charles figured since the mind was defenseless when he first started to snoop that the woman had no control of her mind's ability. Her subconsciousness was protecting the mind on instinct._

_To avoid being shot, Charles apologized for his actions. "I am deeply sorry. I meant no disrespect. I was only curious." The woman studied him for a second before lowering her gun and putting it back in its place. She then went back to reading the newspaper. Charles again silently commented on oddity of the woman._

The man spoke with a thin English accent and with a polite and sincere tone. He was clearly an educated man. After a minute of awkward silence, in which the man never took his eyes off of her as Gabriele continued to read the article, Bridge felt it was time for introduction. "Uh, Richter, this is Charles Xavier. Charles, this is Gabriele Richter. She's the agent I was telling you about." The woman casually flipped to the next page, barely making note of the man called Charles Xavier.

She continued to only half listen as Bridge introduced the blonde woman, who was apparently Charles' sister who went by the name of Raven. She gave Gabriele a half-hearted greeting in return which she assumed was a product of the threat she had just made to her brother. Still, her attention was placed on the newspaper in front of her. The article described Trujillo death as an assassination by a gang of rebels. Gabriele smiled slightly at how effective her plan was. She had made a deal with the leaders of the rebellion; they would claim responsibility, thus increasing their power and popularity with the rest of the oppressed nation while ending any suspicions of foreign intervention, especially on the part of the United States who was still experiencing international criticism for the failed intervention in Cuba the previous year.

"Richter, I have something to talk to you about." Bridge voice broke into her reading. Usually, when Bridge wanted to talk it was about a job but something was different this time. Her boss had never introduced her to anyone before. She wasn't a regular at the Christmas parties. She had seen MacTaggert during some of her rare trips into the office but she and Bridge were the extent of Gabriele's socializing. Whatever Bridge wanted to tell her, these people had something to do with it.

"Can I at least change clothes first. It's a bit cold out here." But she really just needed a break from all the talking and people.


	4. Questions

Lacking any dry clothes of her own, Gabriele had to settle on changing into clothes loaned to her from Moira MacTaggert. Unfortunately, Agent MacTaggert was fond of skirts and had packed no trousers with her. Gabriele gave no complaints however, simply happy to be dry. After changing, she towards the ship's cafeteria, preparing herself for more social interaction.

Gabriele went barefoot, having not been comfortable with her shoes choices. The pleated black skirt she borrowed from her coworker ended at her knee, leaving her pale legs exposed. Her blouse was tucked into the skirt and Gabriele rolled up the sleeves to her elbows since MacTaggert's arms were a bit longer than her own. She was well aware of the exposed tattoo on the inside of her left forearm but she had jacket to hide it with.

Her bare feet made no sound as she walked across the tiled floor of the cafeteria towards one of the long tables were the same group of people who had greeted her on deck sat talking. She noted that Charles and the other man had also changed into dry clothes. They were in the middle of a conversation when she made her presence known by addressing her boss. "You wanted to talk to me, Bridge?" She said with a faint smile. She had decided to reconsider her previous unfriendly behavior. Gabriele never meant to be a callous person but things happen.

"Oh, there you are Richter." Bridge said, ending the previous conversation. She took a seat next to her boss, but she left an empty chair between them. With the amount of skin she had exposed, she took extra precautions. Bridge no longer noticed or found aspersion towards the empty space. It was a rare occasion when she felt comfortable enough to shred her usual black turtleneck and he refused to spoil it for her. Bridge had never been on the receiving end of her mutation but he knew it wasn't a walk in the park.

In order to heal any damage caused by first impressions, she decided to reintroduce herself, first to Charles Xavier. The woman extended a gloved hand. "I would like to apologize for my previous behavior. I didn't mean to come off so insolent. My name is Gabriele Richter."

Charles seemed completely taken aback by her change in tone, but he shook her hand nonetheless. "Yes, Agent Bridge explained that you aren't exactly a people person." He said in his friendly British accent.

"Well, talking to people isn't really a part of my job." She said, returning the smile.

"What exactly is your job?" The other man, Erik Lehnsherr, asked. He sat to the right of Charles, wearing a dark blue turtleneck under a brown leather jacket. What really caught her attention was his faint German accent. Barely unrecognizable, much like her own, but it was there. In the second she took to respond, she noticed his eyes flash to the austere tattoo on her arm.

"Ich töte menschen. Ironisch, nicht wahr?" I kill people. Ironic, isn't it? The German was lost on everyone else, but the man gave her a small smile. But Charles wasn't far behind. His eyes, too, flickered to her arm.

"What a minute. You're a Holocaust survivor? How old are you?" Charles asked, leaning forward in his metal chair. Gabriele was sure she would get this response more often if she enacted with more people.

"I was born in 1928. So, I'm 34. I'm older than I look." She said with another smile. If she kept this up, her face would start hurting. "I believe my lack of aging has something to do with my mutation." She continued.

That was when Moira and the little blonde girl spoke at the same time. "You're a mutant?" Apparently Charles hadn't spilled his guts on whatever he learned while he was in her head. Nor had Bridge told Moira about her coworker.

"What can you do?" Raven said with a new found fascination in her voice.

Her request made Gabriele uncomfortable. She looked to Bridge for help but his face held nothing of the kind. "Uh, does anyone have a knife of some kind that I can borrow?" Gabriele had left hers with her wet clothes. After a moment, Erik pulled a small switchblade from his pocket and handed it to Gabriele, who nodded her thanks. Without more hesitation she removed her left glove and flicked the knife open. She pressed the silver blade to the palm of her hand and pulled it downwards. A small cut appeared and a trickle of blood made its way down her palm.

_Erik Lehnsherr watched in mild awe as the woman cut open her palm. Just when he thought the wound threatened to cover her entire hand in blood, it disappeared. The cut simply healed itself; the separated skin molded back together and not even a scar was left behind. She wiped the knife clean before handing it back to him with her still gloved hand._

_Erik wasn't sure how to perceive the woman sitting before him. Her brown hair was cut short and held a slight curl. Her hair was the same color as her big, oval eyes. Despite her age, she looked no older than the blonde sitting across from her. Physically, there was nothing remarkable about her, about from the serial number that was tattooed on her arm. Not since Auschwitz's liberation had Erik met another Holocaust survivor. And never another mutant. The day had been full of surprises._

_"Cool!" The juvenile blonde, who sat on the side of Charles, said with glee. "What else can you do?" Immediately, the woman became uncomfortable again. A tension that had been unnoticeable showed itself in her squared shoulders and clenched jaw. Erik watched with curiosity as she fidgeted with her glove before pulling it back on. For a brief moment, the woman seemed determine not to provide an answer but then she seemed to change her mind._

Gabriele wasn't sure how to answer the girl, or if she even wanted to give her an answer. An awkward silence filled the air. Bridge simply looked at Gabriele and, once again, offered no help. She thought about lying, saying that she had no other abilities. But that seemed counter productive. In the end, she would just appear as a liar. She was many things, but she was not a liar. In the end, she settled on being vague. "My other ability, which manifested a short time after my advanced healing, isn't the prettiest or the safest thing." Even as she said it, she knew it wouldn't satisfy their interest.

"Can you, like, cause things to explode or something?" Raven's nosiness was starting to annoy Gabriele and she was beginning to find it hard not to snap at the girl that it was none of her business.

Thankfully, Charles noticed that the woman was on the verge of relapsing to her former, rude behavior. Being overly nice and accommodating was clearly a chore for her. So, Charles changed the subject. "We'll come back to that later, Raven. But right now, I believe Agent Bridge has something to discuss with us."


	5. Division X

Gabriele silently thanked Charles for the change of subject and for the attention to be put back on Bridge, and not her. Her boss cleared his throat before starting a very long narrative. When Bridge started speaking, Gabriele made herself more comfortable by slouching in the metal chair and folding her arms across her chest as she prepared for Bridge's usual long-winded speech, this time the topic was Division X. "I want to ask each of you, all of you, to officially join the Division. Long term." Looking around the table as he finished.

Gabriele sighed. Bridge had been trying for years to get her to join his science experiment, but she was never interested. And she still wasn't. "Why?" Her own voice was matched by that of Erik.

"What do you mean 'why'?" Bridge asked to her specifically. In all the years G.W. Bridge had been her boss, she had never asked 'why' in regard to a mission. In reality, she didn't need to ask him. Everything was in the large manila folder he would give her before each assignment. But this request had never came with a manila folder.

"I mean 'why me'?" She said while correcting her posture. Gabriele don't like teams or teamwork. She don't even really like people in general. Bridge knew that. Why would he force her her into something she didn't want to do? She was probably being childish about the whole thing, but she didn't care.

"Why not you? You're the first mutant to ever work with and for the United States of America. You are the most qualified and experienced agent the CIA has. You've never failed a mission. You've brought down numerous dictators and warlords and you've saved countless of lives in the process. You're the best of what you do. Why shouldn't you be involved in the first ever mutant team organized by the U.S?" Bridge said with a small hint of sarcasm.

His adulation still didn't convince her and instead she found it a bit embarrassing but Gabriele remained silent and returned to her lounged state, shrugging the conversation off. Everything Bridge said was true but she wasn't exactly worried about her competence. Gabriele attributed her anti-social behavior mostly to her mutations. Though, she believed some of it could be blamed on her childhood, or lack there of. When you can't touch people without causing them severe pain, you tend to avoid personal contact and people altogether.

_Bridge completely ignored Erik's objection and focused only on the woman's. He then berated her with what was practically adoration. Clearly the two had history together. Bridge was confused as to why Gabriele would refused a position she had evidently deserved. Erik wasn't sure if he wanted a part in the whole thing either. He had been dragged into this by Charles, a man he had just met._

_The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat, adjusting the waist of her skirt. Erik had noticed that she fidgeted with her clothing quite often, but he wasn't sure if it was common tick or if she was just uncomfortable with her attire. "What exactly would be the point of our involvement?" She asked, avoiding her boss's previous question._

_Bridge smiled, seemingly happy that the woman appeared to have changed her mind about the whole thing. "At the moment, our main object to is find Sebastian Shaw and prevent whatever it is he's planning." He said while pulling a sack of folders from his briefcase. _

A manila folder that Gabriele was so use to was placed in front of her. Ignoring everything else, she flipped the folder open and was greeted by a picture of a rather plain looking man with brown hair and a square chin. Her eyes scanned the information and found nothing of real interest. He was a mutant, but the extent of his abilities were currently unknown. The man was also the leader of the Hellfire Club, a secret terrorist group intent on starting another world war. The only thing that peaked Gabriele's interest was the list of his aliases. Dr. Klaus Schmidt, used during World War II. She thought back where she had heard that name before. When she remembered, a frown crossed her face. "Klaus Schmidt is still alive?"

Erik's eyed her from across the table. "Who know Schmidt?" His tone had grown harsh and judging by the venom behind his words, Erik knew the man as well.

"I know _of_ him." Gabriele said, noting that everyone was staring at her again. "The man had a reputation around the concentration camps. Soldiers talk more freely when no one is listening. Or when the person listening is a Jew." She shrugged her shoulders. "So, how do we find him?"

"I think I know a way. But we can't do it from here." Bridge said with a smile and once again taking the attention off of Gabriele, though she was well aware of Erik's eyes which still lingered on her.

"Virginia?" Moira asked. Agent Bridge nodded his head in agreement.

Gabriele sighed. "I hate Virginia."

* * *

A few hours later, Gabriele found herself driving down the dark highway, staring at Bridge's tail lights in front of her as Charles chatted away in the back seat with his sister. She had spent twenty minutes debating whether or not to pass her boss who was cautiously driving the legal speed limit, forcing her to do the same. With an aggravated sigh, she moved the rental car into the next lane and pushed on the gas, speeding by Bridge and MacTaggert in the other car. It wasn't until Bridge's headlights disappeared into the night behind them did she talk her foot off the pedal. She was half waiting for one of her passengers to say something about her driving.

When they had met in the parking lot after getting off the ship, Agent Bridge had handed her a pair of car keys before getting in his own car with Moira and driving away, leaving her with a car and the three strangers. She was still wearing the borrowed clothes but she was forced to pick a pair matching high heels before heading to the parking lot with the rest of the group. Erik had taken the passenger seat while Charles and Raven settled into the back.

"Anyone know how far it is to Virginia?"Gabriele had asked, starting the engine.

Fourteen hours, I think." Charles answered, pulling off his tweed jacket.


	6. Answers

_After a few hours on the road, the car had fallen into silence. Raven looked like she was about to fall asleep in the seat next to Charles. Erik kept his eyes on the window, watching the Florida landscape fly. In the driver's seat, Gabriele watched the road, passing any car that threatened to force her to move her foot to the brake. The woman was quite interesting, Charles had to admit._

_She was a mutant, with an ability she appeared reluctant to disclose to the newcomers, working for the US government. Her entire personality screamed reluctant, as if she would rather be somewhere or if she found everything boring and was only doing because it was a part of her job. And then there was her ability to block Charles out of her mind. She herself wasn't a telepath so it was all very strange._

_"Can I ask you a question, Ms. Richter?" Charles asked from the backseat, starting at the side of her head. She started a little as his words, perhaps forgetting there was other people in the car._

_"Sure," She answered, stifling what he thought was a sigh. "What?"_

_He noticed that Erik turned his slightly to listen while Raven shifted in her seat. "Has Gabriele Richter always been your name?" Charles, remembering the one detail he received from her mind before the wall had appeared._

_Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, but only for a brief second. "No, I changed it after the war." Her voice was quiet._

_"What was it before? If you don't mind me asking." His sister was fully awake now rubbing the sleep out at her eyes._

_Gabriele caught Charles' eyes in the rear view mirror and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to give him an answer. "Sevel," She said. "Sevel Hirsch." Charles nodded his head._

_"Why'd you change it?" Raven asked, leaning forward in her seat._

_Gabriele shrugged her shoulders. "Because I wasn't the same person anymore. Sevel died in that camp with her family," She said matter-of-factly, while passing another car. "And besides, Sevel Hirsch was a stupid name to begin with." She added._

_Raven made a face. "Can I call you 'Gabby'?"_

_"Yeah, if you want." The woman sounded tired, though as a result of the conversation or the events of the previously day, Charles wasn't sure._

_But Raven was just getting started. "Are you from Germany?"_

Gabriele was hoping she would be able to drive all the way to Virginia in silence, but the chatty siblings in the backseat refused to let that happen. "I was born in Munich but I grew up in Nuremberg." Taking her eyes off the road, Gabriele turned around to look the girl in the eyes. "Any more questions." She tried to make her voice as rude as possible but it came up short. She turned back around in time to notice the sign on the side of the road that indicated that they had finally crossed over into Georgia.

"Yeah," Raven said quite loudly. "What exactly is your other mutation?"

"Raven, its not polite to-" Charles began, but Gabriele cut him off.

Her words were quick but everyone understood them. "When my skin comes into contact with another's, it results in a high intensity shock. I can't feel it but the other person can."

"Can you control it?" Erik asked, filling the vehicle with his deep voice for the first time that night.

Gabriele shook her head. "No, hence the gloves." She waved a hand at no one in particular.

"So you can't touch anyone without hurting them?" The words were from his sister's mouth before Charles could speak up.

"That's quite enough questions for one night, Raven. Go back to sleep. We still have a long drive ahead of us."

* * *

They reached Virginia and Division X headquarters early the next afternoon. Gabriele had driven the whole way, despite offers from both Charles and Erik to takeover. And even though, she had exceed the speed limit the whole way north, they had failed to beat her boss to the finish line. Bridge and MacTaggert were just climbing out of their own car when Gabriele pulled into the adjacent parking spot.

Division X was located just north of Richmond, Virginia. The large secret base was surrounded by dense forest and was only accessible by a long winding single lane road which was in great need of repair. The complex was full of countless offices and laboratories. It even had its own air base. Gabriele rarely visited the base even though she had an entire office reserved just for her. It sat unused with the desk and empty filing cabinets gathering dusk. When she wasn't on assignment for the CIA, she lived and spent the majority of her time in a small apartment in north Seattle, away from the bureaucracy of the agency.

Gabriele stayed quiet as Bridge welcomed everyone to the building. She was still a bit upset at him for involving her in his little organization. Feeling annoyed and exhausted, Gabriele excused herself to use the restroom as Bridge prepared to give the group a tour of the complex. In reality, Gabriele just took a twenty minute nap on a sofa in the lobby once the others disappeared. She needed the alone time more than she needed to a vastly over-detailed tour of the building, which Bridge was sure to give in order to impress the new mutants. When she finally decided to get up and rejoin the others, she found them just as they were walking into one of the many research laboratories.

"So nice of you to show up, Richter." Bridge said with sarcasm as she took a place next to him, ignoring the others behind her.

Gabriele wasn't in the mood. "You're lucky I'm even here. I could think of a thousand more ways I would prefer to spend the rest of my day." She said with her own hint of sarcasm. "Chile plays Argentina in an about hour." She informed her boss, taking note of her watch.

"Speaking of Argentina, did he hear about Eichmann?" Gabriele's breath got caught in her throat. It took every inch of her self-control to keep from striking Bridge across the face for his insensitive change of subject. Instead, she simply nodded her head in the affirmative. "I thought you would be more concerned?"

Even without looking, she knew the others were listening. While they had limited knowledge of what Bridge and she were talking about, Gabriele disliked discussing the subject in front of other people. When she spoke, her tone was noticeably incensed and rude. She was intent on ending this certain conversation topic. "Why should I be? Just because Adolf Eichmann practically saved my life doesn't mean he shouldn't pay for the millions of lives he did destroy. After all, it was me who caught him." She tried to keep her voice low, but it still seemed to echo across the room with its high ceiling.

"I thought the Mossad caught Eichmann?" Erik asked from his spot behind Charles and Raven. He of all people would be interested in the fate of Adolf Eichmann.

"It was actually a joint-operation between Israel and the U.S. But America let Israel take all the credit. Especially after Argentina threw a fit." Gabriele said, matter-of-fact. Her mission with the Mossad last year was the first time she had ever worked with other people. She hoped it would be her last.

"But I thought you believe his defense?" Bridge asked a minute after her explanation. This whole conversation had gone on much too long.

"I believed his defense because I lived it. The entire time I was at Mauthausen, all Eichmann did was complain about death-camp quotas not being fulfilled, about the problems of getting all French Jews to the camps, and about the intermittent failure of the Italians to cooperate. The man was following orders on everything he did, except for, probably, his actions in regard to me. But following orders does not relieve one of guilt. Nor responsibility for one's actions." She said, wishing desperately for a change of subject. At this point, she might as well had gone ahead and reveal all her secrets, which weren't really quite secrets, just sensitive areas in her past.

But her wish for a change of topic was delayed when Erik asked another question. "How exactly did Eichmann save your life?" He voice held what seemed to be his typical amount of disdain and cynicism.

The answer to his question was one that needed a preamble, another thing she did not wish to divulge. But she was too far in to not answer his question. "When the Nazis at Dachau learned of my inability to die in the gas chambers, they sent me to Mauthausen in Austria. The doctors, at the orders of the officers, ran numerous experiments on me. Everything from harmless blood work to extensive torture to test the range of my healing abilities. When the officers felt they had learned all they could from me, they insisted that I be disposed of by any means necessary. I was kneeling in front of a headsman when Eichmann suggested that I be kept alive until the Nazi's were able to grow and replicate my cells. They never did figure that out before the Americans arrived." When she was finished, Gabriele noticed that everyone was staring at her. All but Erik had horrified looks on their faces. Now she wished she would have taken a longer nap.

In order to cut off any more questions, she added, "But I didn't drive fourteen hours with no sleep just to answer question about myself." Her tone, which was probably still a rude one, caused the conversation to digress back to Division X.


End file.
